Right Side Up
by wholockian729
Summary: a teen!lock Au. Sherlock meets John, the new kid on the street, when John finds his tree house in the woods. John begins breaking down his carefully crafted walls, and will change his life. In his upside down life where Sherlock is made to believe that he is utterably undesirable by his abusive "boyfriend" Moriarty, will John be able to turn his world right side up?
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock was sprawled out on the floor of his sanctuary. All around him he could hear the sounds of the forest incessantly chirp away, determined to spread a feeling of calm and happy overall those who heard. How could they be selling such a huge lie? Today was not a happy day. In just two days, summer would be over and he would be forced back to that hellhole of a school. The glorious days of solitude and experimenting would be over until the next summer, replaced by his personal purgatory. He would be restrained in a classroom, trapped for the purpose of education. It was ironic that this confinement was actually hindering Sherlock's education; he could be further advancing his knowledge if left alone. Instead, he had to sit and pretend to learn from the teacher. Then, he would have to carefully navigate around the other students so as to avoid getting beaten up everyday. Not that it would help. He would still have to endure Moriarty.

Sherlock's existence was a lonely one. He'd never had friends, his parents were never home, and his brother, Mycroft, was an insufferable git. The only semblance of a relationship in Sherlock's life was his boyfriend, Jim Moriarty. Of course, Sherlock was a high functioning sociopath, and therefore had no real feelings for Jim. He had learned to cut himself off from his emotions long ago, as they had lead him to nothing but trouble. But Sherlock was also rather observant, and therefore was able to act somewhat convincingly. It probably didn't matter to Moriarty. Jim knew he had Sherlock on a leash. He controlled Sherlock's supply. Of course, Sherlock was not actually addicted to the drugs, but he did rather enjoy the side affects. The calmness that settled over his never-ceasing mind. The lucidity the loaned him. It was enough to keep Sherlock coming back for more. But Moriarty didn't want money for payment. He wanted Sherlock. So Sherlock, who couldn't have cared less about his body, after all it was simply a transport for his mind, let Jim have what he wanted. Money would never be a problem, as the Holmes family was obscenely rich. However, Sherlock found it easier to hide his drug habits when monetary exchange wasn't involved. So Sherlock let Jim use him and beat him and force him, so long as the 7% solution he craved kept coming in. Sherlock knew it wasn't healthy, but justified it with the fact that at least this way, he wouldn't be alone. It wasn't optimal, but Sherlock tried hard not to care.

Yet another respite offered by the summer. Sherlock didn't have to deal with these emotions trying to burst through his carefully crafted wall. He didn't have to worry about Jim bruising him, and then telling him that only he could ever love Sherlock. He didn't have to worry about the other kids constantly jeering at him as he walked through the halls. He didn't have to worry about the teachers being jealous of his intelligence. He could sit in his sanctuary, a tree house that Mycroft and his father had built years ago, and experiment to his heart's content. He could pretend that his tree house was a pirate ship, and that he was the great pirate Holmes, the scourge of the seven seas. He could retreat to his mind castle, and spend a day organizing and cleaning palace. He could do what he wanted, whatever he pleased. In the summer, he was his own man. Moriarty lived to far away to come see Sherlock often during the summer, but during the school year, Sherlock would have to succumb to his desires whenever Jim felt it appropriate. And Sherlock would sink farther into his shell of self-loathing and insecurities, trying to bury them underneath a calm facade.

Sherlock's fingers unconsciously ghosted over the bruises on his arm. Only in this safe haven could he roll up his sleeves and let the truth be exposed. Only here would he not be judged for being in an abusive relationship because of an "addiction", as everyone would call it. His tree house was a fortress of solitude. No one was allowed up here, save himself. Not since he had commandeered it after Mycroft gave up the house. It was his secret place.  
No one could ever-

"hellooooo? Anyone up there?" A voice called from the ground below. Sherlock snapped up and quickly rolled his sleeves down, a habit formed since this summer's commencement. Sherlock stayed quiet, hoping that the voice would leave if it thought no one was up here. Sherlock cautiously crept over to a small window in the floor. Through the special window, Sherlock was able to see the ground and about a 10ft. diameter around the tree base, but the window was unseeable from the ground.

"Hello?" The voice said again. Sherlock could now see that the voice belonged to a sandy haired boy, roughly his age, probably two years older, who was circumnavigating around the base of the tree. The boy had the most gorgeous blue eyes Sherlock had ever seen-_Cut that out brain_. Sherlock should not be thinking about how well toned the short body was, or how the jumper he wore was completely inappropriate for the summer months and should be immediately removed. Sherlock shook his head to ward off these thoughts. He shouldn't think about the boy this way, lest his hopes build without his permission. This boy obviously had some sort of power that allowed him to make others feel. Perhaps it was the kindness of his eyes, or the openness of his overall demeanor. Sherlock peered back down at the boy, just in time to see him give the tree house on last scrutinizing look, shrug his shoulders, and walk to the ladder to ascend to the house.

_Drat, how could I have forgotten to pull that up! _Sherlock mentally chastised himself. He panicked and scrambled over to the trapdoor. He undid the latch and let it fall down, not realizing the boy was fairly close to the top. The boy, who was surprised by the door suddenly swinging towards him, let go and fell a very uncharacteristic display of courage, Sherlock threw himself partially out of the door and lunged for the hand of the falling boy. He very nearly missed.

"Bloody Hell!" The boy gasped, surprised by both the sudden appearance of Sherlock and the affects of gravity. He grimaced as Sherlock pulled him back towards the ladder, eager to pull himself back into the safety of the tree house. Sherlock took a moment to catch his breath, and then when sandy blond hair popped up through the door, Sherlock began his campaign to get rid the invader.

"John Watson, I am Sherlock Holmes. You recently moved into the house down the street with your mother and alcoholic brother" Sherlock started, hoping to scare the boy- John- away, " You moved here to attempt to get past the fact that your father survived years in the military, only to die months after his return, because he drove drunk with you in the car, resulting in a shoulder and a thigh injury for you." Sherlock took a big breath, then let a satisfied smirk settle on his face. He drunk in the look the other boy was giving him; his eyes and mouth were wide in...was that amazement?

"H-how did you-?" John stammered.

"I didn't know, I saw," Sherlock sneered "and for future reference, this tree house and tree are mine, and I don't appreciate intrusion." Sherlock was trying to figure out why he had lunged after this boy. He wouldn't have fallen that far, and quite frankly, he shouldn't have been snooping if he didn't wish to be injured.

"Well, how did you see that, then?" John persisted. Sherlock sighed as he prepared to launch into his speech. He wasn't sure why he bothering to tell the boy this, but he really wanted to see that look of amazement again, so he said, "Your name is on the back tag of your jumper, which I could easily see while you were dangling from my hand. The recent move is indicated by the fact that you didn't know that this was my tree, or even my property and also by the fact that you are exploring here alone, as if you were just visiting, you would be accompanied by a current resident of the house you were staying in- you are new o the area, and the only empty house within walking distance is the house two doors down from mine. Then there's you're brother. Your clothes smell of alcohol, but your breath doesn't, so you've been taking care of someone who does quite a bit of drinking. If it was you mother, you wouldn't be here, as you would have to be at home unpacking as she would be too drunk or too hungover to help. So a sibling then. Just below your name on the sweater, another name "Harry" is crossed out. The sweater is a little big on you, so most likely and hand-me down from Harry, your older brother. Now for the injuries. When you fell, you grimaced when your descent was stopped, so the sudden stop obviously hurt a lot. You weren't falling that fast, so the stop alone shouldn't have hurt that much. But couple that with a recent injury- much more painful, painful enough to elicit a grimace. Then when you were walking around the bottom of the tree, you were limping slightly. Based on the rigidness of how you hold the whole leg, the injury was far up the leg, so thigh. The way you hold yourself and your hair style says military, but you are obviously too young to be enlisted, so older family member or father has obviously influenced you. But the habits are obviously a product or many years being subjected to them, so father seems likely, as the habits are very deeply ingrained. However, your hair is now a bit too long to military, so that influence is not around to enforce that habit. So your father must either have left, or is dead!" Sherlock finished triumphantly, breathing a little heavy after attempting to spout it all out in as few breaths as possible.

"B-but how did you know about the-" John said, barely able to speak past his amazement.

"Accident? Shot in the dark, but a good one though," Sherlock winked as he said this, surprised at his own audacity "You moved to a quite place where you could easily walk everywhere, suggesting that you and your family are weary of cars. Why would you be unless someone had been involved in a tragic accident with one recently? You're posture is rather rigid for someone who just lost a loved one. Sorrow tends to make people soft, but anger, now that will make you tense up. So anger towards the lost loved one. Why would you be angry towards them, unless they had committed suicide. But the fact that you have recent wounds and recently lost loved ones, must have some correlation. So car accident, must have been caused by loved one-drunk driving. Drunkenness is also supported by the military background." Sherlock smirked as he finished. He was sure John would leave now, then he could let himself sink back into his safe place and delete this whole confrontation. Then he wouldn't feel as though he lost anything, or remember the sparks of hope that were shooting through him at this moment. He would be blissfully alone again. Alone was what he had. Alone protected him.

"Brilliant!" John breathed.

"Really?" Sherlock asked and cocked his head to the side, surprised.

"Absolutely, who couldn't think that? I never could have done that!" John said, a wide grin breaking over his face.

"That's not what most people say." Sherlock admitted a little shyly. Who was this boy, messing up all of Sherlock's preconceived notions? Who had given him such permission? Why was he so friendly? Why wasn't he yelling freak and trying to get as far away as possible? Why was he still here? All these questions swirled around in Sherlock's head. None of them could be answered with simple deductions. Why was this so complex? He hung his head as the memories of others reactions to his abilities were juxtaposed with the example set forth by John. John Watson, why are you so different?

"What do they usually say?" John asked. He seemed so...concerned. Genuinely concerned. Sherlock's list of questions grew larger. Quite frankly, he was shocked. He had just spouted John's embarrassing secrets out at him, and here was John, telling him he was brilliant, and then being concerned for him. Sherlock couldn't understand why John was being nice to him.

"Piss off." Sherlock answered, without really meaning to. John started to giggle, and then full out laughed. It was a beautiful sound, bright and genuine. It was like music to Sherlock's ears. Sherlock started laughing as well, hoping to prolong the length of John's laugh.

When the two finally calmed down, John moved to sit directly in front of Sherlock, and quite a bit closer then he had been sitting. The door was closed, they were alone in the tree house, together. Sherlock felt his pulse start beating erratically, and mentally cursed himself, hoping that John wouldn't notice. The two sat quietly in companionable silence for a moment, each staring into the others eyes. It was John who finally broke the silence when he asked Sherlock "Since you seem to know everything about me, why don't you tell me some about you? Where do you go to school?" Sherlock chuckled at John's assumption that he knew everything about his new companion. Sherlock wished he could know everything, which scared him. Why should he waste precious memory space on his hard drive of a brain on information about this boy? But Sherlock couldn't bring himself to push the other boy away, not until all of the confusing questions blocking up his brain were answered. So Sherlock answered with "St. Bart's Academy."

A grin broke across John's face at the words. "That's where I'm going too," He exclaimed "Good, I'll have at least on friend! What's it like there? Do you have many friends?" Sherlock's heart stopped at these words. Friend, he had said. Sherlock had a friend. He didn't have to be alone anymore. This boy had wormed a way inside his fortress, and Sherlock didn't want him to leave now. But surely once he saw how unpopular Sherlock was at school, he wouldn't want to be friends with Sherlock anymore. John would be taken from him, just like all the other good things in his life.

"School is insufferable. You won't want to "hang out" with me there. You'll do much better on your own than with me. You are aesthetically pleasing, and therefore will do fine with the ladies. You are also rather athletic looking, so would fit in with the "jocks". Don't make the mistake of hanging out with me. You'll just get bullied and called a freak. You could do so much better. It's best if you just stay away. I understand." It killed Sherlock to say these words, but he knew they needed to be said. He would rather see John happy without him than miserable by his side. Sherlock still couldn't figure out why he cared , but he did. _Bloody emotions_ he sighed to himself. He was sure he could repair the hole made by John Watson when he inevitably left, and decided to go ahead and start the process, hoping that it would drive the boy away quickly so as to avoid more damage to his fortress. He glanced at John's face, expecting a look of disgust, only to find a very confused face staring at him.

"Why do they bully you, Sherlock?" John questioned. A tingle shot up Sherlock's spine when Jon said his name. It sounded so pleasant, so different from the way most people said it. That same concern from before was dominant on John's face.

"They don't like when I tell them things," Sherlock whispered "I don't mean to say them, but often they make me angry, usually with their stupidity. My observations are the best way to get back at them. Sticks and stones may break their bones, but my observations really hit them where it hurts. They usually just pop out, even when I don't me for them to. They shun me because they think it'll make me stop, if I have no friends. But I don't care. I don't need anyone. Alone is what I have, alone protects me" As Sherlock said the last few words, he began curling up into a ball and curling in on himself.

"Well, I could see how your deductions could be harsh, but if they didn't want people to know, they shouldn't have done it in the first place!" John said angrily."And furthermore, I don't care what other people say. I think your deductions are brilliant, and I want to be your friend." With that, John reached out and placed his hands on Sherlock's shoulders.

A warm feeling radiated through out Sherlock at these words. John wanted him. He slowly looked up at his new friend. His only friend. Thank you he said quietly, as he met John's eyes. A familiar smile lit up John's face as he answered "Anytime." With that, Sherlock launched himself at John and trapped him in a hug. Perhaps he was a bit too exuberant about it, because the next thing he knew, he was on top of a chucking John who had been knocked to the ground.

"Sorry." Sherlock mumbled. As he quickly climbed off, a deep pink blush colored his cheeks. _Great _he thought to himself _just an hour with John has left me an emotion idiot who tackles people for being nice to him. Smooth Holmes._ He was shaken out of his mental self-reprimandation by a pair of arms encircling his waist. John was hugging him now.

"It's okay." John replied. The he let go and leaned back. Sherlock sighed as the arms left him. He wished they could have stayed around him forever. What was this boy doing to him?! Sherlock could barely keep his uncaring facade up as John looked to him.

"So, not many friends...do you have a girlfriend?" John asked innocently. _Oh, if you only knew John, if you only knew._

"Not really my...area." he replied cautiously, not wanting to scare John away.

"Oh." John considered for a moment, then his eyes widened as he slowly said "Oh...so do you have a boyfriend then?" Sherlock had a moment of panic. If he opened up about Jim, the whole story might come out, and surely that would convince John that he was much too freaky to be friends with. He couldn't have John leaving, not after he had started breaking down his carefully crafted defenses. But he couldn't outright lie to John. Friends weren't supposed to do that, right? John saw his hesitancy and said "which is fine, by the way."

Sherlock wished he could tell John everything, but he couldn't risk John leaving. He couldn't risk losing the only person who had ever wanted to be his friend without ulterior motives. so Sherlock told a half lie "No..." Sherlock decided Moriarty wasn't technically his boyfriend, as he reciprocated no feelings for the drug dealer. To be perfectly honest, Sherlock felt that Moriarty didn't actually have feelings for him either. He probably just wanted him for the sex. So it wasn't really that big of a lie. That didn't stop Sherlock from feeling guilty about it.

"Oh, ok," John said, looking a little suspicious at Sherlock's lack of confidence "so you're unattached, like me." The silence that ensued was awkward, as each boy tried to sniff out the others motives. Sherlock felt the need to clarify his lie, so he told another half-truth. After all, two halves made a whole right? "John, I'll have you know that I consider myself to be in a relationship with my experiments, and though I'm flattered-"

"Oh no, God no. That's not what I meant. I'm not gay." John said quickly, obviously flustered. Sherlock's heart sank, but he just gave a small nod and looked down. Both boys flushed at the implications, but Sherlock, surprisingly found them not unfavorable. _Might as well admitted, if just to myself. I, Sherlock Holmes, am attracted to John Watson._ It made sense. It answered some of his questions. But he still had important ones to answer. Why did he care for this boy? What made him special enough to receive the friendship of this marvelous human being? What would Moriarty do when he found out? Because Sherlock knew he couldn't go on with Moriarty. How could he let Moriarty violate him anymore. He wanted to reserve himself for John, and John alone. John would be the only person he let in. Not that Moriarty had ever breached the walls of his previously impregnable fortress. But he knew he needed Moriarty for the drugs. If getting rid of Moriarty meant no more drugs, he would do that for John. God, he figured he would do anything for John. _What the hell has come over you, Holmes. You've known the guy for what, an hour? Why is he so special? What makes him worthy of you?_ Sherlock had no answer to the first question. He didn't know why John was special. Sherlock just knew that he had pulled Sherlock out of a deep depression in less than an hour, and had changed his outlook on everything. Someone cared for Sherlock. Someone wanted to be with him. Before John had shown up, he had been so sure that no one could ever want him, but John had said it himself. He wanted to be the friend of Sherlock Holmes. And that was exactly why John was worthy of the attentions of Sherlock Holmes. He took the time and effort to care.

Sherlock looked up into John's eyes, and realized something. _John said he wasn't gay. John would never like me the way I like him._ This saddened Sherlock, but he quickly decided he didn't care. He could handle some disappointment if it meant John would stay in his life. John may never love him, but Sherlock could hide his feelings, and they could be friends. Moriarty was the only one who could ever want him in that way. Moriarty made him feel wanted, but so unloved. He had to scourge himself of Moriarty and his drugs.

A small noise interrupted the silence of the tree house. Sherlock pulled his phone out of his pocket, recognizing the noise as his ringtone. He paled as he realized who the text must be from.

**Meet at the pond in 30 min. -JM**

Sherlock had to get John away. Jim Moriarty was definitely a jealous man, and he didn't want John and him to meet, especially not when Sherlock would be leaving him.

"Well John, I've enjoyed this but really must depart. So if you could just-" Sherlock said, reaching out his arm to usher John towards the trapdoor. As his arm stretched out, his shirt rode up his arm, revealing the bruising on his arm. John's loud gasp interrupted the rest of Sherlock's sentence.

"What the- What happened? Did someone do this to you?" John inquired as he gingerly grabbed the arm to examine it.

"Yes- I mean no! I mean-" Sherlock frantically searched for an explanation.

"Sherlock! Who did this?" John thundered, looking rather like an angry Zeus.

"What I meant to say is that one of my experiments did this. Not an actual person, just an abusive experiment." Sherlock hastily lied as he covered his arm. He felt even more guilty at this lie, but one could almost consider Moriarty an experiment, so still just another half lie. John glared suspiciously at him, but seemed to take the bait.

"Tell me more about these experiments, they sound dangerous." John said, an excited gleam in his eye. Sherlock wished he could tell him about all his experiments, but he didn't have time. He had to get to Moriarty and ditch him, then he could tell John all about his experiments, and hopefully John would like them. Or at least accept them. Sherlock shivered as he thought about a scenario in which John thought his experiments were freakish, and therefore, Sherlock must be a freak by association, and therefore should not be friends with a non-freak such as himself. No John wouldn't do that. Sherlock prayed(not that he believed in any deity) that John wouldn't react like that.

"I really have to go now, but perhaps tomorrow we could go to my house and see them." Sherlock said, hoping that John would want this.

"Okay. Yea sounds good." John nodded and let Sherlock see another of his dazzling smiles. Sherlock's heart fluttered at the thought of John being at his house, watching him experiment.

"Give me your phone." Sherlock demanded. John quickly handed over his mobile, and Sherlock put his number in. Then he sent himself a quick text, so that he would have John's number. Satisfied, he handed John back his phone.

"One last thing." John said. He held up his mobile to take a picture of Sherlock.

"John!" Sherlock whined. He detested having his picture taken. It seemed so frivolous and unnecessary.

"Oh, come on Sherlock. Give me your best deducting pose." John insisted. Sherlock grumbled, but let John take the picture. He steepled his finger under his chin and stared straight at the camera. John chuckled, then put his phone away and headed for the door. Sherlock realized his opportunity and seized it.

"Wait, John. Fair is fair." Sherlock said smoothly, bringing out his own phone. John sighed, but let Sherlock take the picture. He made sure to get several, claiming innocence when John accused him of taking forever. Sherlock finished, then smiled at John. A real smile that Sherlock hadn't had on his face in years. They said their good byes, and departed the tree house. Once at the bottom of the tree, Sherlock took off for the pond. He didn't have much time left, and Moriarty would be very angry if Sherlock was late.


	2. Chapter 2

***Thanks to ALL my followers, reviewers, and favoriteers (like the name?) So this chapters gets pretty intense, and I'm not terribly happen with the end, but oh well. I think the characters get a little OOC as well. Please, please, please review! I love hearing YOUR input.**

John watched as Sherlock-and there was no better way to describe this- strutted away into the forest. John couldn't help but stare a bit as he disappeared into the forest. There was another reason the Watson family had moved that the observant boy had missed- which John was was incredibly thankful for. He had recently come out as tentatively gay, just about the same time his sister had come out. This is why Captain David Watson had been drinking and driving that night. Not that there was any excuse for drinking and driving, but John couldn't help but feel that his actions had contributed to the accident. He had called his dad after overhearing some of the other boys talking about ambushing John when he walked home. He knew it would look weak of him, and he didn't want to look weak in his dad's eyes. So he had pretended to be sick-most likely food poisoning(which was admittedly not a far stretch when one considered the miserable excuse for food the school cafeteria served).

John's dad had shown up in a drunken haze. It was obvious he was inebriated, and John had tried his best to get his dad to get out of the car. He had tried to convince hi to let him drive, to just wait, to call a cab, and finally just to walk home. With every attempt, Mr. Watson had grown angrier, until finally, he yelled at John "If you don't get -hiccup-in the car right now, you can just forget about comin'-hiccup- home!"

John knew he was drunk, and that he hadn't meant it, but he still felt hurt. David Watson had taken the news about his two kids fairly well, aside from turning to the bottle. He hadn't told him to leave, he hadn't looked at them in disgust, hadn't even yelled. He had nodded, and went back to watching some crap telly show. But John watched as he began to drink more. His mother had been a bit disappointed about not getting grand kids, but had other wise been quiet about it.

John had climbed in the car, and remained silent the whole ride.

John blamed himself for the accident, at least in part. He was mad as hell at his dad, but his dad had only been the instrument of destruction. John had been the catalyst. The unintentional mastermind behind it all. He had sunk down into a pit of grief, and had only attempted to climb out when he had found the tree house this afternoon.

It was old, yet elegant. It sat in a beautiful tree that reminded John a bit of a pretty version of the Whomping Willow from Harry Potter. He'd wanted to check it out, but didn't want to intrude. When Sherlock had appeared out of no where to grab his arm, he, of course had been surprised. Not just by the unsuspected appearance, but by the jolt of electricity that had jolted through him at the point of contact between their hands. Then he had gotten a good look at Sherlock. _Bloody. Freaking. Gorgeous. _His dark, curly hair contrasted his pale, angular features in an exciting way. It gave an air of life to his very presence that hinted at danger and screamed mystery. This boy was the epitome of all of John's fantasies.

Then Sherlock had opened his mouth. _Bloody. Freaking. Brilliant. _John had been stunned once more. Was there anything about this boy that could possibly be a turn off? He had been a bit rude at first, but that was to be expected. John had invaded his tree house. Yeah, John had called up first, but perhaps the boy had been asleep, or otherwise occupied. He kept conversing with Sherlock, hoping the other boy wouldn't notice how helplessly infatuated John was.

John had to know more about this boy. Especially whether or not he was currently in a relationship. If he was, John could always just be his friend. But if not...well get ready Sherlock Holmes. John was known for being relentless when it came to pursuing a relationship. Of course, that had been mostly when he dated girls. He had always tried so hard, convinced that it was his fault that he really wasn't attracted to them. Then his sister had come out, and he talked to her about it. He had concluded from these discussions and his own feelings that he was gay. He hadn't been a hundred percent convinced until he saw Sherlock. His face was just so perfect. _God those cheekbone!_ Those dark curls would be perfect to run his hands through and clutch. And that arse was perfectly shaped, perfect to cup and squeeze.

When Sherlock had said that he wasn't in a relationship, John had noticed that he got a little flustered, but had assumed(the assumption had been driven by hope) that it was because Sherlock liked him too. But then, when Sherlock had told him that he needed to go, and John saw the bruises, he had known something was up. Sherlock tried to tell him it was an experiment, but that couldn't possibly be the source. John had quite a bit of medical knowledge, as he hoped to one day become an army doctor. Many of those bruises were yellowing, indicating that they were weeks old. Others were obviously fresh. These had been sustained over time, and John highly doubted that any experiment that was this harmful would be continued long term. Sherlock wasn't the only one who could put two and two together and get four. John knew Sherlock had an abusive partner. _Damn, still don't know if he's gay_! John was astounded that this would be the prevalent thought in his head. He mentally berated himself as he desperately attempted to prolong his time with Sherlock, trying to figure out more about him. He wanted to help, but he didn't want to embarrass the other teen.

Despite John's best efforts, Sherlock wasted little time in getting John out. _He must be in a hurry. Wonder what he's so anxious about...could it be? _Sherlock had recently gotten a text. Could it have been from his abusive partner? John figured he would chance it. It would be worth it if he could help the boy out. This would also be an excellent chance to figure out which team Sherlock played for.

John quietly ghosted after Sherlock. He stayed just close enough to keep him in sight. He stayed to the left of the boy, so that he could sprint back toward his own house if Sherlock discovered him. He was sure the other boy would be quite cross with him if he was discovered. Plus he would have to explain why he was following, and he wasn't sure he was quite ready to lay his feelings out on the table. He was a bit apprehensive. What if Sherlock was straight? What if he just didn't like John in that way? Why would he ever like John that way? John wasn't special. He was just selfish and bad for all those around him. He tried to be good. He was friendly to everyone, and tried his best to stop bullies, but he went around chasing after girls for his own selfish purposes, and then had drove his dad to an early grave(no pun intended). He had pleaded with his mom, who already had enough on her mind with the accident and the economic problems they were sure to encounter soon, to uproot the family and move somewhere that wasn't so homophobic. He was a bad person, but he wouldn't stop trying to do good.

The two walked for about 10 minutes until a the forest opened into a clearing. As John closed in on the clearing and carefully hid himself between a large tree, he could see a rather large pond off to the right of the clearing opposite to the tree he was behind, surrounded by flowers of many different shapes, sizes, and colors. It was a picturesque scene, but was marred by the presence of a boy with reddish brown hair who appeared to be about John's age. He was taller than John, but not by much. He was slender like Sherlock, but had a rosy complexion that made him appear healthy and rounded.

Sherlock looked indifferently across to the other boy. The boy held out his arms wide, as if expecting a hug.

"Come here Sherly," the boy said, a distinctly Irish lilt apparent in his voice, "You know you missed me." His mouth curled up into a grin that looked downright evil to John. Definitely the boyfriend. John's heart gave a little flutter at this realization.

Sherlock snarled and said "Don't call me Sherly. And I've decided that I've had enough of you Moriarty. Both of you." John was puzzled at this. _Both of you? Does he have two boyfriends? Is it a threesome? I wonder how kinky this boy is?_ John blushed. His mind seemed to be stuck in the gutter since he gazed upon the perfection of Sherlock. He wasn't usually this dirty minded. But then again, that one bloke-Oscar something, Oscar Wilde, maybe? eh not important- did say that we are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking out at the stars. Maybe he had stopped looking out at the stars. John frowned. That sounded a bit not good. He didn't need to be any lower than he already was. _Ah bugger it, I need to focus on this now._

But that thought stayed consistently at the front of his mind as he watched the strange scene unfolding in front of him. The other boy, Moriarty, dropped his arms, but the smile on his face remained. It looked rather tight now, though. The two had a stare down, both refusing to look away. Then Moriarty took one step towards Sherlock.

"What was that, Sherly? Hmmmm, you don't want me anymore?" The other boy said far too cheerfully. Sherlock continued to stare directly into his eyes.

"Don't-"

"YOU DON'T _WANT_ ME ANYMORE?" Moriarty's smile broke as he roared over Sherlock's protestation."Well that's just too bad, because, unfortunately for you, I am the only way to get you what you need."

"Wrong!"Sherlock retorted, furious at being interrupted "I don't need you, your drugs, anything! I AM NOT addicted, I only have one want, and it is NOT YOU!" The hidden boy was surprised by this revelation. _Sherlock is a druggie?_ _No wait, he's a recovering druggie? I'll have to figure this, and the mysterious 'want' out later. _John marveled at Sherlock. It was terrifying watching the two argue. John imagined that this is what the clash of the titans would look like. Sherlock was calm and cold, yet exuded a ferocity and dread not unlike that inspired by the Daleks. Moriarty was all rage, but was obviously still in control of himself. He was more visually frightening than Sherlock, but Sherlock was psychologically terrifying. _Damn, how does he make that look so sexy?_ By this point, John gave up on trying to censor those little blurbs from his mind. He was too engrossed and the battlefield below.

Moriarty started chuckling. "Oh Sherlock, poor naive little Sherlock. You'll come back. You always do." Moriarty walked closer to Sherlock as he said this. He got right up against Sherlock. "After all, I'm the only one who loves you. Who could ever love you." Sherlock lost focus for a minute at these words. Moriarty took the opportunity to lean forward and press his lips to Sherlock's. John's mind went blank. Red filled his vision. With an almighty yell, he charged toward Moriarty, thinking of nothing but using his years of rugby experience and the resulting body to take the little shit down.

"Sherlock!" he yelled as he pinned Moriarty beneath him "Go Sherlock. Get away from this scumbag. Don't give in, you don't need those drugs!" John felt he babbled a bit to much, but he was nervous. He always was when it came to violence.

John was doing well at first. He caught Moriarty by surprise and managed to get him to the ground. But Moriarty was stronger than he appeared, and insanely clever. He managed to flip John, then smack his head back on the rocks of the pond. John groaned loudly and attempted to fight back. But Moriarty laughed, and slammed his head down once more. John's world went black.

* * *

Sherlock picked himself off the ground and spun to where John and Moriarty were tussling on the grass. John's tackle had been forceful enough to knock him back on his bum. His initial confusion was replaced quickly by momentary happiness, which was replaced by dread. _John came for me. Moriarty might kill him._ The drug dealer was incredibly mercurial. One moment he could be caring, but the next he would be in a murderous rage aver the banal detail. He had to get Moriarty off John.

But Sherlock was frozen to the spot as a sickening crunch came from the kerfuffle. John's eyes closed as Moriarty stood up with a nasty grin.

"John?" Sherlock asked mootly. John was, at best, unconscious.

"Now, Sherlock, either you come back to me, or I promise-no scratch that, I swear- that I will BURN the heart out of you." Moriarty sneered.

"I have been reliably informed that I do not have one." Sherlock retorted, eager to have the last word. The staring contest between the two resumed. As Sherlock looked deep into the brown eyes of Moriarty, he realized something.

Sherlock was absolutely disgusted. How could this boy have ever caught his fancy? How screwed up did Sherlock have to be to ever come to rely upon this boy? If Sherlock was honest with himself(which he was beginning to realize that he hardly ever was), Moriarty had, at one point, seemed very attractive. Mostly because of the drugs that came with him, but his clever mind had caught Sherlock's attention. Almost like a toy caught the eye of a bored pup. Now all Sherlock could see was the malignity of the devilish teen. He would surely bring destruction wherever he went. Sherlock detested him. He didn't want to end up like him.

There comes a point in every person's life when they must make a choice. For some, it's hardly a decision. They know exactly what they want. Now, it is true that one can come to many crossroads in one's life. However, one stands out amongst the others as a definitive turning point that affects the course of life. At least, this is what Sherlock had read. He had never quite believed that one point could be so definitive. He believed life was made up of the little decisions, not one big one.

But this one moment, with John unconscious, possibly dead, on the rocks, Moriarty having put the boy there with no hesitancy over his actions; With Moriarty grinning at Sherlock vilely, as if planning exactly how he would make Sherlock pay for his insubordinance. This one moment changed Sherlock's mind. Because in this one moment, Moriarty was so purely evil, so malign, that Sherlock knew that he would rather die the most painful death than EVER turn out like Moriarty. In this one moment, Sherlock fell. He had been teetering on a ledge for awhile now. He had been at the top of the cliffs, where Moriarty tempted him to be evil with him. Where life would always be easy. Where he could kill people, mess with their lives, use them as his puppets, just because he was bored. He had been slowly backing away from the edge. But now he took a flying leap off. He fell, plunging towards the ground at a terrifying pace. This road would be more difficult, but he could see now that this way would be eternally more gratifying. This was the side of the angels.

A new found strength flooded through him as a moan came from the direction of the pond. John wasn't dead. He swung his head towards John, glad to see him squirming on the ground. He swung his head right back as Moriarty began to chuckle. He laughed harder, tears(fake, no doubt) started rolling down his face. This perturbed Sherlock to no end.

"I think we both know that this is not the case." Moriarty managed to get out.

* * *

John awoke groggily, just in time to hear laughter. _What the hell?_ He tried to sit up, but pain shot through his head.

He settled for opening his eyes and searching for Sherlock. He was in the same position as before: body tensed, locked in stare down mode. But Moriarty was laughing so hard he was...crying? John wondered if he had somehow entered an alternate universe. Moriarty was giggling gleefully, and Sherlock was looking rather...nervous? Where was all the confidence from before? How long had John been out? Why was Moriarty so damn happy? John was so utterly confused.

Moriarty finally stopped chuckling and wiped the tears away from his eyes.

"Well, you two boys are just so much fun to play with. I think I'll let you go. For now. You'll be crawling back to me as soon as that withdrawal hits," the drug dealer gleefully said, and then sang out "Good bye!" Sherlock continued to stare him down, but started slowly walking towards John as Moriarty retreated out of the clearing.

"Catch you later." Sherlock said, almost to himself. It seemed more like a conviction than a retort..

As soon as Moriarty had disappeared, Sherlock fell to his knees at John's side. His calm and cool facade shattered to reveal his panic.

"John!" he said as his eyes frantically surveyed the downed boys body as he ran his hand all over, checking for broken bones and bruises " Are you okay? Where does it hurt? Can you sit up?" John smiled at the boys concern. It was rather endearing to see the usually cold and emotionally cut off boy so open and natural. John lifted his hand to the sharp cheek bone of the frantic boy. Sherlock flushed under his touch.

"That-um. That thing you offered to do back there. That was- um good." Sherlock said, obviously flustered.

"Anytime, Sher." John said, grinning easily. Sherlock grinned back_. Ugh, that grin, the concern, the sexy. I should kiss him right now. _ John was nervous at that thought, but resisted the impulse long enough to ask "So...definitely gay, then?" Sherlock looked rather confused, then slowly broke out into a grin. Before John could make good on his impulse, Sherlock slowly leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on John's lips. John saw fireworks._ That's so cliche_ he scoffed at himself; But it was true. The kiss was so amazingly wonderful, so right. He whispered Sherlock's name against his lips, then gasped as a tongue creeped out of the other boy's mouth and tentatively swiped across his lower lip. _Asking permission? God yes._ John moaned his consent as he reached up and put one hand around the back of Sherlock's neck and weaved the other through the luscious mop of dark curls on Sherlock's head. John was having mightily inappropriate thoughts now. The quote from earlier popped into his head, and he frowned.

He felt, rather than saw, Sherlock's confusion as he pulled away.

"What's wrong John? Did I do something wrong? God, I have haven't I. I'm so sorry! Please don't leave me!." Sherlock panicked and curled up into a ball. He tucked his head up under his arms.

"Sherlock, no. God no. That was so...wonderful-perfect-right! Take your pick. Any of those describe what just happened. I just... I had a weird thought." John tried to console the ball of boy. Sherlock peeked up from behind his arms. His eyes were glistening and wide, distress clearly written across his face. _God he looks so cute when he's vulnerable._

"yourdon hava libe tor akeem freel befferrt" Sherlock mumbled. The words were completely non understandable due to the arm that was in front of his mouth. John just smiled, struggled to sit up, then grabbed Sherlock's arm.

"Want to try that again?" He whispered. Sherlock glanced down at his shoes.

"I said, you don't have to lie to make me feel better, John." He whispered. John felt his heart flutter. What would inspire Sherlock to be this shy. Where was that confidence he had seen against Moriarty?

"Sherlock, love, I'm not lying. I think you are incredible. ..Brilliant... .Sexy. I want you. I don't understand how I could ever deserve you, but nonetheless, I want to be with you. All the time. You are passionate, fierce, genius, gorgeous, genuine. And I like you. Quite a bit."John put all his feels into this speech, hoping Sherlock would understand. He slipped the hand on Sherlock's arm down to his hand. He laced their fingers together, then gave a reassuring squeeze. Sherlock looked back up into his eyes, his expression cautious.

"Then why were you...frowning when I kissed you?" He asked hesitantly, as if by saying this he would remind John that he did in fact hate Sherlock. John felt a flare of rage towards Moriarty, who most definitely caused Sherlock to lose faith in himself. He rubbed his thumb in small circles on the back of Sherlock's hand to reassure him that John was there, and didn't plan on leaving anytime soon.

"It's just- you are so incredibly sexy- I've been...thinking...not good things about you and me," John said slowly, searching for the right words "My thoughts aren't usually so...explicit. It made me think about this quote from Oscar Wilde, I think. He said that we are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking up at the stars... I was worried that I had stopped looking at the stars, meaning I had sunk even farther than I already have..." John mumbled, embarrassed. He wondered again how Sherlock could ever love him. John was so disgusting.

"Perhaps," Sherlock started slowly then paused. "Perhaps you aren't falling farther. You physical position has stayed the same. Your mental position, however, has turned from the unattainable, yet wildly tempting, to a healthier goal." John stared at him, lost in thought.

"So you're saying that I have abandoned my attempts to achieve the impossible because I've realized that what I have, or what I can actually achieve is better for me?" John asked. Sherlock nodded. John looked down to process that. It was true. He had finally abandoned the notion that he might be straight, that he could be straight if it would make the people's lives around him easier. But John couldn't lie about something like this. He wasn't attracted to girls, plain and simple. But his attempts to be that guy had been hurting him, and had given his parents false hope that was ultimately hurting them. John smiled up at Sherlock. He leaned in close and put his forehead against Sherlock's.

"Bloody genius, I think you're right. Absolutely right." Sherlock smiled and said "Of course I am." The two laughed.

"Pretentious git" John joked.

"Sherlock captured John's lips with his own before replying with "foolhardy idiot."

The kiss deepened, and soon the air was filled with gasps and moans ans the two explored each others bodies with their hands. Soon, John became light headed. He pulled away, then chuckled at the pout on Sherlock's face.

"you're so adorable when you pout." John smiled. Sherlock let out a low growl, then went back to kissing John with fervor. John felt light headed again, but ignored it, too caught up in Sherlock. Then, for the second time that day, John passed out.


	3. Chapter 3

**_*So I got on a bit of a writing tangent and produced this chapter. I'm 95% sure that all the chapters after those first two are going to be comparatively shorter, like this one, so yeah. Also I really really really like reviews :)_**

_Bored. -SH_

_Bored. -SH_

_Boooored -SH_

_John, I am bored. -SH_

_John? -SH_

_Joooohn -SH_

_Jawn -SH _

_Jaaawwwnnn -SH_

_John, you can't pretend like you're busy. I know that you are free this block. -SH_

_:'( -SH_

_do you see what you made me do. -SH_

_JOHN -SH_

_:( -SH_

John chuckled as he read over these messages. He really had needed to get some work done. School had been in session for just a few weeks, and already he was stressing out about grades. John actually had to do the work and try to learn in most of his classes, unlike Sherlock, who was apparently able to absorb information through osmosis. _Actually, _John thought to himself, trying to sound smart _It couldn't be absorbed through osmosis, as osmosis is specifically for water.__ God I'm such a nerd...maybe its Sherlock rubbing off on me._ John smiled at that though. If that was the worst side effect of dating Sherlock Holmes. then he could live with it. Unfortunately, worse side effects had already proven that hope to be untrue.

Aside from the first two classes of the day, Sherlock and John had every class together. Consequently, they spent a majority of the day together. While they weren't flamboyant about their relationship, the certainly didn't try to hide it. They could often be seen walking down the halls hand in hand or even giving each other hugs. They hadn't dared kiss at school yet though, although they both agreed that it was their favorite after school activity. Most days, the two boys would go back to the tree house after school, or would go exploring in the forest. It was the most fun John had ever had with a friend, or even a significant other.

The one downside to his spending so much time with Sherlock was the lack of other friends. Sherlock didn't like many people, but was exceeding clingy towards those he really did like. So John didn't have much time to even try and make other friends. The only other place he could was on the rugby pitch. The school had instituted a new rule this year that required every student to participate in a sports team, and John and Sherlock had both chosen Rugby. They were both really good players, and were therefore mildly respected by their peers. Sherlock's talent, especially, came as a surprise to many. He was incredibly agile and lithe. It seemed he was always in the right place to receive the ball, and could easily dodge around those who could catch up with him to try and tackle him. John was good at tackling and passing. He always knew where Sherlock was, and was not afraid to go in for the ball. Due to their synergistic talents, they often worked in close partnership, and often out-scored all of the other players. John enjoyed having this time to relax, but could tell Sherlock didn't share his sentiment.

Sherlock's rugby skills alone could not prevent the others at school from bullying him. Sure, according to Sherlock, it had reduced the number of incidents, but Sherlock was still getting cornered once a week, at least. He had managed to get away with just a few nasty comments most of the time, but at least twice now things had gotten physical. John couldn't believe how homophobic the students here were. At his old school, anyone who came out as gay immediately invited to join a small group of gays who would band together if anyone of them got picked on. It had started two years ago, and had managed to eradicate the little amount of homophobic bullying that took place at the school. Here, he was pretty sure that he and Sherlock were the only two out-though he knew for sure that there were at least three others- and therefore took the brunt of the bullying. Sherlock didn't seem to care. He just looked adoringly at John, rather as if John was his new puppy. John knew he was more important than a puppy, or similar pet, but still felt like that's what most people related him to. Everywhere he went it was _Sherlock Holmes and his Faithful Sidekick. _John tried to block them all out, but he obviously needed more practice as he was horrible at it.

As the bell rung, John rushed to his locker-which was conveniently just next to Sherlock's locker- to meet Sherlock to go to their next class, Human Anatomy and Physiology. This was always John's favorite class, as the subject matter intrigued him, and getting to see Sherlock properly for the first time that day always set his heart aflutter. He eagerly scanned the hallway for any sign of that dark mop of curls. When he finally spotted them, his face broke into a wide grin and he charged forward to meet him. When he met Sherlock, a grin broke across his face as well.

"Hey, Sher." John said as he grabbed Sherlock's hand. Sherlock raised their intertwined hands to face level and placed a kiss gently upon it. Both boys' cheeks pinked.

"My John." Sherlock murmured, dropping the hands between them.

"Sorry I didn't answer," John explained "I hadn't finished that coloring packet that's due today. I swear, why do we have to learn to color. We aren't in primary!" John exclaimed, launching into the third rant this week about learning to color. Sherlock smiled, squeezed his hand and replied "Its okay, I was merely bored. I found that thinking of you helped decrease my boredom. Of coursing, a conversation with you, spoken or not, would have been much more effective." John smiled even wider.

"You can be so sweet sometimes you know." John said as he squeezed Sherlock's hand back. John absolutely loved this. The easy yet sweet conversation. The absolute adoration on both sides. The general respect they had for each other. It was marvelous, and John wanted it to last forever. _Wait... Did I just admit to myself that I wanted to be with Sherlock forever? Did I just, in essence, admit that I want to marry him? _John was unsettled by the realization that he wasn't adverse to the thought. _But bloody hell! I haven't even told him I loved him, or graduated high school, or prepared for a career or...anything. _It took him a moment to realize that he had completely skipped over the part about being in love with Sherlock. _Am I in love with Sherlock?_ He asked himself. It was this question that distracted him for the rest of the day. He tried his best to pay attention to Sherlock and his other classes, but this question took precedent to all else. Did he love Sherlock Holmes?


End file.
